


In Our Hearts Shall Burn

by MadMax17



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Smut, Four Inquisitors, Slow Burn, Temple of Sacred Ashes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-02 15:38:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8672938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadMax17/pseuds/MadMax17
Summary: After the events at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, four walk out of the fade. Vanarel Lavellan, Tristen Trevelyan, Asad Adaar and Rinelsya Cadash have to figure out how to close the Breach without bumping heads, which is hard enough when you don't argue every three minutes.*Will be continuing soon, the next chapter will be posted by January 22 2018*





	1. Chapter 1

They all had a throbbing in their hands, pain shooting up their arms and radiating throughout their core. Tristen woke with a start and groaned, his head pounding as he trembled, cold seeping into his bones.  
“You’re awake?” someone near him asked quickly, her voice radiating panic. “Come on man, talk to me, please!”  
“Shut up,” another voice said, hers an octave deeper and angry. “Or I swear I’ll shut you up.”  
“Oh, and just how do you plan to do that Qunari?” a light voice chuckled mirthlessly. Chains rattled. “In case you haven’t realized you’re stuck where they put you just like the rest of us.”  
“You shut it too elf,” she growled. “I’ll find a way out of here and laugh as I’m leaving your ass behind.”  
“Please you two stop fighting!”  
The man’s blurry vision slowly began clearing up and the sight before him would’ve been amusing in nearly any other circumstance. A large Qunari woman with horns curved at the end and deep red hair in a thick braid down her back was growling at a pale, elf with long white hair who couldn’t be much younger than Tristen. Said elf was shouting back, but he sounded more annoyed with the other’s attitude than their situation, hiding any fear or panic he may have been feeling behind his squabble with the other. A dwarf looked at him with wide eyes, the chocolate brown orbs lighting up when they met.  
“Guys,” she said cheerfully. “He’s awake, maybe he knows what's going on!”  
The other two turned to him, their chains rattling in the dim candlelight. They seemed to be in some dungeon, crude markings filling the walls evidence of past prisoners. It smelt of mold and decay, as if it hadn’t been used in years.  
Shackles kept them attached to the walls, arms tied behind their backs and causing shoulders to ache.  
“I’m Rinelsya, call me Rin,” the dwarf said, her short brown hair bobbing as she moved her head to nod toward the other people in the room. “That’s Vanarel,” the elf nodded to him, but didn’t speak. “And that’s Asad,” she motioned toward the Qunari, who at this moment seemed to think glaring back at her wrists would make the shackles remove themselves. “What’s your name?”  
“T-Tristen,” he said shakily. “What’s going on?”  
“Well, we were hoping you’d know when you woke up,” she said, her face falling.   
“Well, I don’t,” he said hurriedly, attempting to stand on shaking legs and failing. “How did we get here?”  
“We don’t know either shemlen,” Vanarel said softly. “We woke up a few minutes before you.”  
“And yet we’ve still managed to get on each other’s nerves,” Asad growled. The elf glared at her.  
Tristen looked back at his hand, flinching as it lit up and green light flickered off the wall and across the room. The others fell silent, their eyes falling on him.  
“You have one too,” Rin said softly, her eyes narrowing. “That means we all have this...thing.” She moved her shoulder in frustration, indicating her own hand as best she could.  
“Perhaps that’s why we are here,” Asad said softly.   
“Oh, so you aren’t going to just blame him like you did me?” Vanarel said sarcastically.  
“Are you fucking serious right now?” she growls back, chains rattling as she tugs on them. “I woke up with a glowing hand, it was a bloody surprise!”  
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have-”  
A door slammed open and a woman with choppy, dark hair and a long scar on her cheek walked in, accompanied by several guards. Each of them wore heavy armor and grim expressions, their hands holding the hilts of their swords. Tristen swallowed thickly.  
“Tell me why any of you should be alive right now?” she growled, anger and frustration poisoning her words. “The Conclave is destroyed, and yet only the four of you survived, out of everyone there.”  
“What do you mean?” Vanarel demanded, standing as best he could and growling as the guards drew their swords and turned them on him. “What happened?”  
“Don't pretend you don't know,” she said bitterly.  
“We don't,” Rin hurried to respond. “We don't remember anything.”  
“You’re lying-” she rushed toward the dwarf, who fell back, pressing back against the wall to try to flee before the scarred woman was held back by a pale hand.  
“We need them, Cassandra,” a red-headed woman said appearing from the shadows, her accent marking her as Orlesian. “Do any of you remember how this began?”  
“If we knew,” Asad said through clenched teeth. “We’d tell you, but we don’t.”  
Cassandra sighed and turned to her partner. “You go to the forward camp Leliana, I will take them to the rift.”  
Her friend seemed reluctant to leave but walked out, her body tense as she left. The dark haired woman turned to the prisoners.  
“I am Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker of the Chantry,” she said stiffly. “What are your names?”  
They answered, some more reluctant than others and she nodded   
“Bring them out,” she said stiffly, nodding toward the armored men surrounding her.  
Vanarel was still and quiet as his shackles were released from the wall, but the moment he could move semi-freely he jumped into action. He kicked the man who had been releasing him back, and his armor clanged as he met another body, both of them falling to the floor.  
The elf smirked and jumped toward the door, narrowly avoiding another guard as he swung his sword and he tumbled through the doorway.  
However, Cassandra seemed to have been prepared for a runner, and before the man could get far, she kicked the back of his knees, knocking him down and pressing her foot into the middle of his back.  
Vanarel glared at her as best he could from over his shoulder, feeling her heavy boot pressing into his back, forcing the air from his lungs. She drew her sword and placed the tip against the back of his neck and he ceased his struggling, shivering at the feeling of the cool metal.  
“I wouldn't try that again if I were you,” she said dangerously. The elf growled.  
“If you're going to kill me, get it over with already shemlen,” he spat.  
“I have no intention of killing you if you cooperate,” she said, allowing one of the guards to tie the elf’s hands behind his back again before removing her boot. She lifted him up aggressively. “And that courtesy falls to each of you.”  
Vanarel threw his head back and when it narrowly missed the Seeker’s nose, she growled and grabbed his hair, pulling it harshly.  
The elf stilled. “Fucking shem,” he spat.  
“What do you want with us?” Tristen asked, his voice shaking more than he wanted it to. “We didn't do anything!”  
Cassandra sighed softly, releasing the elf’s hair and letting one of the guards take over watching him, ignoring the daggers in his eyes as he glared at her.  
“It will be better if I show you,” was all she said until they were all released from the wall, with another failed escape attempt from Asad, and they were led outside.  
The cold air seeped into their lungs, and a few of them coughed raggedly.   
“Maker’s breath,” Tristen breathed, looking at the sky with wide eyes.  
“Shit,” Rin said softly.  
“We call it the Breach,” Cassandra explained, continuing her walk across the bridge as they all stood, frozen, staring at the sky. “A massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It is not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”  
“An explosion can do that?” Asad asked quickly.  
“This one did,” she responded.  
“Creators,” Vanarel breathed. “Is there any way to stop it?”  
“We are unsure,” she said softly. “We need to find out if it has anything to do with your survival.”  
“Wait, I'm confused,” Rin said, stepping forward a bit. “You're saying...we are the only ones who survived? Out of everyone there?” She nodded. “But how?”  
“She obviously doesn't know,” Asad said, annoyance dripping from her words. “Otherwise we’d already be dead or given orders.”  
Cassandra sighed. “You aren't wrong,” she said softly. “Come, we need to try and see if we can find a way to end this.”  
“Would you consider untying us?” Vanarel asked, quirking a brow and glancing at his constricted hands.   
“Why? So you can try to run away again?” she asked bitterly.  
He glared at her. “There's a tear in the Veil shem,” he growled. “No matter how much I desire freedom, I won't leave that to sort itself out. The Dalish have honor.”  
“I can second that sentiment,” Asad said stiffly. “Well, not the elf crap but I’ll stick around until we fix this shit. I can't say I'll be staying afterwards though.”  
“Wow,” Rin chuckled. “So you two can agree on something?” They glared at her. “Honestly though, this is too dangerous just to leave alone. I want to help too.”  
“The world was going to shit before this anyway,” Tristen said stiffly, glaring at the ground. “But I’ll do what I can.”  
Cassandra sighed and nodded, reaching for a knife on her belt and cutting the rope that bound all of their wrists. “Be careful,” she said dangerously, looking pointedly at the elf. “One false move and it will be the end of you.”  
“So suspicious,” Vanarel said sarcastically, patting her shoulder as he stepped past her. “Come on shem, we have a sky to try to fix.”  
She glared at the elf as he walked toward the gate but followed with the others at her heels.  
“The people here have already decided your guilt, they need it,” she said. “The people of Haven mourn our most holy, Divine Justinia. The Conclave was hers.”  
“Humans have a habit of refusing to take blame,” Asad said.  
“And what does that mean?” Tristen argued, glaring at the Qunari.   
She quirked a brow. “It's true, you people can never just say it was your own fault about anything.”  
“Please don't start fighting,” Rin hurried to say, stepping between them. Tristen might've laughed at her attempts to look into the Qunari’s eyes if the situation were any different.  
“What she said,” Vanarel turned and walked backwards, hands in his pockets with a grin. “We can all argue after we figure this shit ou-”  
A loud boom sounded through the valley and the first to fall was the elf, grabbing his palm tightly as pain exploded through it and he shouted. The others followed soon after, Rin leaning against nearby rubble and covering her mouth in an attempt to keep from being sick and staring at her hand with wide eyes, tears shining in them.  
Asad didn't seem to get there in time and vomited, the warmth of it melting the snow it landed on. Tristen felt heat radiate through his body, the thin Veil making his magic stronger, and the pain flowing through him mingled with that. It sent a pulse of sharpness through him, making him dizzy.  
He leaned against a nearby mountain, taking deep even breaths and biting the inside of his cheek.  
“What the hell was that?” Vanarel shouted, glaring at Cassandra from his spot on the ground. She knelt beside him and tried to help him up but he pushed her hand away aggressively, yelling up at her. “Answer me!”  
“We don't know,” she growled. “We don't know any of this.”  
“So what then?” Asad spat, putting snow in her mouth to try to get rid of the sharp taste stuck on her tongue. “We just follow you and hope we can do something?”  
“Do you have a better idea?” Tristen growled. “Because we’d love to hear it.”  
“Shut it,” she said. “I'd be gone now if I could be.”  
“I bet,” Vanarel chuckled mirthlessly from his spot on the ground. “Because you’re a bloody coward.”  
“What the fuck did you say, elf?” she shouted, standing tall and glaring down at him.  
He sneered up at the Qunari. “Coward,” he repeated. She growled and kicked him, her large foot colliding with his stomach and sending him back a few feet. He chuckled, coughing from the impact.  
“That all you got, Qunari?” he spat, lifting himself onto his knees before standing gracefully, moving as if he were unfazed by the assault.  
“That is enough,” Cassandra growled, putting herself between the two of them and holding her arms out, keeping each of them away from the other. “We can fight later, right now we need to get to the Temple of Sacred Ashes!”  
They glared at each other for a few more moments before Vanarel sighed. “Fine,” he growled, and began walking again, pulling his long hair off his neck. “Do you have a tie or ribbon, or something?”  
Cassandra looked at him with a confused expression. “You're concerned about...your hair?”  
“If I'm expected to go into a demon infested valley,” he said, grinning back at her. “I can't have it getting in my face.”  
“I do not.”  
The elf sighed. “What a pity.”  
“I think I have a bit of ribbon,” Rin said helpfully, rummaging through a small pack on her belt with her tongue sticking out. She produced a thick strip of green satin, presenting it to him proudly. He smiled at her, an actual smile, the first and only he’d have for many days.  
“Thanks dwarf,” he said cheerfully, taking the strip of fabric from her and tying his hair back, feeling the soft length slip off his neck.  
She pouted. “I have a name, you know,” she said.  
“What is it again?” he asked, grinning down at her. “I wasn't paying attention.”  
“Rin!”  
“If you two are quite done,” Cassandra growled through her teeth. “We can get going.”  
Vanarel sighed. “So impatient you are, Seeker,” he said. “But alright, we go where you command.”  
He bowed dramatically, a playful grin on his face barely concealing his anxiousness. She sighed.  
“Come on you guys,” Tristen said and began walking. “We should hurry, the quicker we can leave here the better.”  
“Agreed,” Cassandra said, tiredly. “Come then, we must hurry.”


	2. Tristen

When Tristen had heard “Seeker of the Chantry” he had had to keep himself from visibly shivering, the remnants of his life in the Circle fresh in his mind. But she didn’t seem ready to lock him up right now, if she even knew about his magical abilities. He really hoped she didn’t.  
But when they rushed across a bridge and a blast from the Breach destroyed the path, he shouldn’t have been surprised a demon manifested right in front of them.  
The fall had been jarring and he had hit his head on the ice as he landed, the impact blurring his vision. He dimly heard shouting around him and his body was moved roughly by a pair of small hands. Two forms jumped in front of him, blocking the path of the creature’s claws. The larger of the two rushed to the side, narrowly avoiding being hit and called the demon toward her, shouting as it chased her.  
The smaller form ran after them, something glinting in his hands and he jumped, landing on the thing’s back and plummeting what was undoubtedly a blade into the creature. The demon screamed, throwing it’s head back and knocking the elf off of itself, and he landed on the ice with a grunt. The beast stood over him, slashing it’s claws down.  
He hurriedly covered his face and the sharp points cut into his soft arms, the warmth dripping down the appendages at an alarming rate.  
Tristen’s rapidly clearing vision made watching the fight easier, but with the demon bearing down on Vanarel he hurriedly looked at Asad, who was trying to get the creature’s attention again. But she was too far away for it to notice her and too far to get to the elf on time.   
Rin rushed from her place beside him to try to get the demon away from the elf as well, but she wouldn’t make it either. And he was unarmed and it’s ghastly claws were already dripping with red.  
Tristen grit his teeth and lifted his hand, shooting a large blast of ice at the beast, freezing it solid before it could hit Vanarel again, the elf staring at it for several seconds before turning to him with wide eyes.  
Cassandra hurried forward, thrusting her longsword into the creature’s chest and watching it dissolve into the ice. She turned to Tristen.  
“You are an apostate,” she said accusingly, her eyes narrowed.  
“Not necessarily by choice,” he said softly, pushing back images from the Circle as he stood on shaky legs.   
“That doesn’t matter,” she growled. “You should have informed us, you’re dangerous like this.”  
He growled. “I was a good little apprentice, I did what I was told!”  
“Like revolt against the Chantry?” she argued.  
“That doesn’t matter right now Seeker,” Vanarel grunted, rubbing the back of his head with a grimace. Rin helped him inspect his arms, and she tore a strip of fabric from his coat to tie around the wounds. “Right now we need weapons.”  
She turned to the elf as if he were mad. “You don’t need to fight.”  
“Are you serious?” he growled at her, standing shakily and smacking Rin’s hands away as she hurried to help steady him. His face was an alarming shade of white, his wounds more serious than he seemed willing to admit. “We almost died while you were too busy, and even then you yell at the one person who could do anything about it! Just because you’re incompetent doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be able to defend ourselves!”  
She glared at him for a moment before sighing deeply and nodded at a group of crates nearby. “Look through those, there may be weapons. If not, you will have to wait until we get to the camp.”  
Vanarel hurried to the boxes and seemed almost giddy when he pulled out a hunting bow, and a quiver holding a dozen arrows. He grinned as he pulled out a small dagger, a curved blade that he put in his belt.   
“Come on, elf,” Asad said, pushing him aside. “Save some for the rest of us.”  
“First come, first serve,” he said dimly, inspecting the tips of the arrows and smiling at them, seemingly much more at ease with the metal and wood in his palm.  
Asad found a claymore, grey blade glinting in the light as she inspected the edge. It didn't seem to be to her liking but she took it anyway, giving it a couple experimental swings.  
Rin hurried forward to grab the blade that had landed on the ice when the demon dissolved and smiled at it, holding the hilt tightly.  
There weren't any staffs.  
“Come on then, we should get going,” Vanarel said, holding his bow confidently.   
“Agreed, the sooner we get out of here the better,” Rin said.  
“And the sooner we can get real weapons, the better,” Asad grumbled.  
They began walking, Tristen a few feet behind the group and rubbing his hand anxiously. He didn't dare lift his sleeve, even a little, the scars there would be too alerting to the Seeker. She'd suspect him of blood magic, kill him on sight.  
And it wouldn't be the first time someone had tried.  
He didn't need a staff to be useful, didn't need it to cast his spells. But it helped concentrate any blasts, keep them focused enough so there wouldn’t be any chance he would hurt his comrades. He was nervous about fighting without one.  
“Calm down,” Rin said softly, looking up at him with a smile. Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “I won't let her hurt you.”  
He frowned and shook his head. “You don't know me,” he whispered.   
She chuckled and rubbed the back of her head. “True, but I know a good person when I see one, and you are a good person.”  
He bit the inside of his cheek and the taste of copper flooded his mouth. Lucky for him, he wouldn't have to answer her, because at this moment Cassandra began running forward, shouting for them to hurry.  
When they came to a stop they all saw an elf and dwarf fighting a group of demons, magic blasts and arrows flying through the crisp air.  
Vanarel hurried forward, bow drawn back and arrows flying with practiced ease. He didn't smile or taunt now, he was focused and sure, calculated and ready in the way a hunter would have to be.  
Asad’s blade cut one of the creature’s nearly in half and Tristan looked at his hand, swallowing thickly as he felt electricity crackle through his palm.  
He took a deep breath and aimed, furrowing his brow as he concentrated on only hitting the demons. The light flew from his palm, magic traveling from one demon to another until they tensed, unmoving as they were finished off by arrows or blades.  
They fell and Cassandra glanced back at him, frowning at him before turning to the strangers.  
“Quickly, before more come through,” the elf said, his staff still out as a precaution in case any stragglers came after them.  
“What are you talking about?” Asad shouted. “What do we do?”  
He growled and grabbed her hand, pointing it at the rift and a long, green tendril connected her palm to the opening. She cried out and he grabbed Vanarel’s and Rin’s hands as well, pointing all of them at the rift despite several protests.  
Glancing around, he noticed Tristen and hurried to him, dragging him forward. When his palm was facing the rift, a loud boom sounded, echoing through the area and causing his ears to ring as they were thrown back from the rift.  
But it was closed and as he looked around he saw all of them staring hard at their palms, and then up at where the rift had previously been, and then at their hands again.  
“You,” Asad growled, pointing at the strange elf. “You-what did you do?”  
“I did nothing,” he said, smirking. “The credit is all of yours.”  
“We closed that?” Rin asked. “How? Was it magic? Dwarves can't have magic, we aren't-”  
“Easy,” he said gently. “The same magic that opened the Breach in the sky also put those marks on your hands. I theorized your marks could also close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake. And it seems I was correct.”  
“Meaning it could also close the Breach itself?” Cassandra asked, sounding disbelieving.  
“Perhaps,” he said, rubbing his chin a bit. “It seems they all hold the keys to our salvation.”  
“Wait, whoa,” Vanarel said, standing quickly and clenching his fists. “You weren't sure what would happen when you threw us at the tear? What if we'd died, or made it worse?”  
“I very much doubt anything could be worse than what would happen if we couldn't close the Breach,” he said grimly.  
“Well that's a cheery disposition,” a light-haired dwarf said, startling Vanarel into squeaking as he appeared from behind Tristen. “Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever.”   
“And who are you?” Asad growled, running her hand through her messy hair with a growl.  
“Oh where are my manners,” he chuckled, bowing deeply. “Varric Tethras, as your service. Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally, unwelcome tagalong.” He winked at Cassandra and she glared at him.  
“I am Solas, if there are to be introductions,” the elf said. “I am pleased to see you all live, and that our Lady Seeker hasn't taken out her frustrations of you.”  
“I am not unreasonable,” Cassandra growled.  
“All the time,” Vanarel quipped.  
“You seem to know a lot about this,” Rin said, interrupting anything the Seeker may say back and lifting her hand, moving her fingers to indicate the mark. “How?”  
“Like him, Solas is an apostate,” Cassandra answered, nodding at Tristen. “Well versed in such matters.”  
“Technically all mages are now apostates, Cassandra,” Solas said, furrowing his brow but forcing on a smile.   
Tristen ran his hand through his hair and tugged it lightly. “We should hurry,” he said softly, stepping a few feet ahead of the group.  
“A great idea,” Varric said, following close behind him.  
“Oh no you don't,” Cassandra said hurriedly. “Your help is appreciated but-”  
He quirked a brow at her. “Have you been in the valley lately Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore, you need me.”  
She glared at him before growling, moving past Tristen to lead the group through the valley and to the temple.  
Vanarel walked at the back of the group, bow ready but seemingly less tense as he spoke quietly with Solas.  
Like him, Solas is an apostate.  
Tristen frowned. He hated the circle, yes, but he was a loyal Andrastian. He sang the chant, he passed his Harrowing with no trouble. He stayed because he had to, because if he had left by himself he'd be killed or worse.  
He shoved those thoughts from his head, memories crowding his thoughts in a way they shouldn't right now. Instead, he focused on putting one foot in front of the other.  
When they came into contact with another rift, they hadn't fallen as it closed, had been prepared for the jolt it sent through their bodies.   
The mage shook, his palm screaming, and he could only assume by everybody’s faces they hurt just as much as he did if not more.  
Cassandra led them through the gates and they walked up to a table, where Leliana, if he had her name correct, and a Holy Father were arguing. They could hear some of the debate, and none of it sounded good.  
Leliana looked up and when she saw them her frown deepened. “Chancellor Roderick, they-”  
“They need to be taken to Val Royeaux for trial,” he interrupted her. “They can't possibly fix this.”  
“Aw you don't know that,” Vanarel said, grinning as he stepped forward and leaned in front of the table the Chancellor had been pouring over moments before. “We could be just who you need.”  
“Call for a retreat Seeker,” he pleaded, ignoring the elf. “We must find justice for the Divine.”  
“Are you not more concerned about the Breach?” Rin asked. “This crap is why dwarves are afraid of the sky!” Varric chuckled softly behind her.  
Tristen clenched his jaw, listening to them all debate before Cassandra shouted over the others, calling for silence. She turned to him.  
“How do you think we should proceed?”  
He frowned. “Why are you asking me?”  
“That's a good question Seeker,” Vanarel said, crossing his arms and glaring at her. “We all have this marking, should we not all have a say?”  
“He's the only one not bickering like a child,” she said, glaring at the elf from over her shoulder.  
“I shouldn't be given this decision,” Tristen said quickly. “I mean, I'm a mage after all and-”  
“And you haven't used your magic against us,” Rin said, smiling up at him. “Come on, you got this.”  
“I'd hurry, were I you,” Solas said. “Time is of the essence.”  
He bit the inside of his cheek and tasted copper before running his hand through his hair angrily. He stared up at the Breach, feeling everyone’s eyes on him.  
“I say we charge,” he said finally. “We won't survive long enough for you bloody trial, whatever happens happens now.”  
“Damn straight,” Asad said, grinning at him and patting him on the back as she walked forward. “Come on, let's see if we can find better weapons.”  
Tristen grunted from the impact of her palm and followed her to a small armory area, watching her pull out a large battle ax and stare at it giddily. The edge was curved wickedly, a large gemstone set into the center of the metal. She set it down nearby and searched around for a bit more before pulling out a staff.  
It had a spiked ball at the top and when she handed it to him, he took it thankfully. Icy magic flowed through him, some enchantment on the staff making his abilities stronger and he smiled at it.  
“Thanks,” he said, looking up at her and she grinned.  
“No problem,” she said, smiling down at him for the first time since this entire thing had started.  
“Wait for us,” Rin said hurriedly, rushing toward them. “I need some too.”  
Vanarel followed close behind her, idly toying with the string of his bow and turned down the offer of another weapon. Rin giddily pulled out two iron daggers, each as long as her forearm with red handles.  
“Are you all finished?” Cassandra asked from behind them, surprising Vanarel who let out a small squeak. Varric chuckled at him.   
“Come on Mouse,” he said, eyes twinkling. “We aren't going to hurt you.”  
“Don't call me Mouse,” he growled.  
“We are finished,” Tristen said quickly, interrupting any retort that would start another argument. He turned to Cassandra. “We follow your lead.”  
She nodded and they began walking down a set of stairs, surprised at the sight of so many bodies lying in the dust. Tristen swallowed thickly.  
How many of those were mages? How many were templars? Were there those that had been sent here secretly and didn't make it?  
“Snap out of it Twinkles,” Varric said softly, making Tristen jump. He looked down at the dwarf. “You can think about all this later.”  
He nodded and followed the others, fighting demons easier with the staff and he was less worried he'd hurt the others, allowing himself more free reign with his abilities.  
When they closed the rift this time, the pain was greater, spreading from his hand through his torso, making him sick.   
“Fuck,” Asad growled, covering her mouth. “What the hell is this?”  
“It may be because of how close we are to the Breach,” Solas said gently.  
“It may be?” Vanarel growled, holding a hand to his stomach and grimacing. “Oh that's lovely, I can't imagine how much fun we’ll have closing the blasted thing.”  
“Cassandra, you managed to close the rift?” a blonde man asked, a scar on his upper lip moving as he spoke and he walked up to her quickly. Vanarel quirked a brow when he saw him but made a point of turning away. “Well done.”  
She sighed. “Do not thank me, Commander. This was their doing.” She motioned to the quickly recovering men and women, each of them rising to full height at different paces.  
The Commander frowned but nodded. “Be careful, we will clear the way as best we can.”  
“Give us time Commander,” Cassandra said, her face drawn taut.  
“Maker watch over you, for all our sakes,” he said gently, hurrying forward to help an injured soldier flee.  
“May Andraste guide your step,” Tristen said softly, not loud enough for him to hear but he hoped the sentiment was realized.  
“Come,” Cassandra said quickly. “We must find a way into the temple.”  
They all followed her, quickly running through the entrance and stopping at the sight. A sickly green lit up most of the area, something that looked like a shattered crystal frozen in the air, surrounded by the color.  
Tristen could feel his magic pulse the closer he got to it, any demons that may have pressed into his mind seemingly ignoring him for the moment in favor of pushing at the rift.  
“We must find a way down,” Cassandra said. “Quickly.”  
Vanarel seemed more than ready for her to say that and jumped over the railing, landing beside the rift quietly. He turned toward the others, looking up with a smirk. “You coming?”  
“Damn right I am,” Asad growled, accepting the elf’s challenge and jumping over as well, landing next to him. “Come on.”  
“I'm not sure,” Rin called over the railing. “I might hurt myself.”  
Asad chuckled and held out her arms. “Come on, I'll catch you.”  
It took several more minutes of coaxing, but eventually Rin jumped and, true to her word, Asad caught her and set her down gently. Tristen threw one leg over the thick stone that made the railing and swung the other over, pushing himself off the makeshift seat.   
He used magic to force a small pocket of air to soften his fall, but even then his ankles jarred at the impact. He looked up and watched Cassandra follow soon after him, and he did what any gentleman would do, and helped ease her fall as well.   
She glared at him when she landed. “Don't use magic on me,” she growled.   
He frowned but bowed. “My apologies, I didn't want you to hurt-”  
“I don't care.”  
Vanarel sighed. “Maybe we can argue about that later, Seeker?”  
“If we get a later,” Asad amended, staring at the rift.  
Solas and Varric followed soon afterwards, having found a less dangerous way into the valley.   
“Seeker, there is red lyrium here,” the dwarf said, his voice radiating anxiousness.  
“There can't be,” she said, frowning. “Surely you are-”  
“He is not mistaken,” Solas interrupted.  
“Ok, one bloody disaster at a time,” Rin said quickly. “Breach first, then red lyrium, whatever that is.”  
Solas nodded and turned. “This rift is closed, albeit temporarily. We should be able to open it and then seal it properly. However, opening it will likely draw something through.”  
“That means demons,” Cassandra said. “Stand ready!”  
They all surrounded the rift and Tristan took deep breaths, attempting to clear his mind. As he lifted his palm, he heard a shrill voice sound from the rift and jumped.  
“Someone help me!”  
He froze, the voice sounded vaguely familiar and Vanarel looked at him with a surprised expression.  
“What is this?” They heard a deep voice say.  
“That sounds like Asad,” Rin hissed.  
“Intruders,” a deeper voice shrieked. “Kill them.”  
“We have to stop him!”   
That was Tristen’s voice and he swallowed thickly, the sound of it nearly alien to his ears.  
“Get out of the way Qunari!”  
“That was Vanarel,” Asad said softly, her eyes wide as she stared at the rift.  
“No, what are we going-”  
“Rin,” Tristen said softly. They had all been there, they had all failed the Divine. What had happened?  
Maker, he felt sick.  
“Echoes of what happened here,” Solas said, loud enough for them to hear. “The Fade bleeds into this place, do not let it distract you!”  
Vanarel nodded and held his hand up, waiting for the others to as well. Tristen was the last to raise his palm, and he felt the Fade flow through him as they opened the rift, a cold seeping into his bones and he shivered.  
“Now,” he heard Cassandra shout, going after a demon who had appeared from the rift.  
Pride, one of the strongest. Tristen remembered meeting one during his Harrowing, how it had tried to tempt him with freedom, telling him that together he could be freed from the horrors of the Circle. That even if they found him they’d never be able to force him back there. He would be lying if he said he hadn't considered it.  
“Snap out of it shemlen!”   
Tristen felt a small body ram into his, pushing him to the ground before rising quickly. The sounds of arrows flying through the air was loud.  
Vanarel glared down at him. “If you aren't going to fight, stay out of the way!”  
He ran away again, seemingly attempting to distract the demon from the mage as he ran up its arm.  
Asad swung her ax at its leg, taking a large chunk out and it fell. She roared triumphantly and tried swinging it against the beast’s arm, but it sent a large bolt of electricity, magnified from the metal of her weapon and she screamed.  
“Asad!”  
Rin rushed forward, jumping onto the demon’s back and slashing at it’s neck with her blades. It brought an arm up to swing at her and she barely ducked in time, the heavy appendage missing her and she flipped off the beast, landing with a small puff of snow.  
“Come on,” Vanarel shouted, shooting an arrow into its stomach. But the beast continued, seemingly unfazed. “Is that the best you got?”  
Asad stood shakily, using her ax to help keep herself steady as she panted. Parts of her dark grey skin had smoke coming from them, black showing where she had been burned.  
“Come on,” she shouted at the elf. “I know you can do better than that.” He grinned at her.  
Maker, the way they moved, as if they'd been fighting together for years, they moved without the need to vocalize what they were going to do.  
And Tristen just laid there, bottom going numb from the snow and throat burning from the cold air.  
Asad brought her weapon down against Pride’s arm, nearly slicing it off and she heard it scream as what would be blood splattered on her face. Vanarel took the beast’s distraction and used it to his advantage, rushing forward with his bow at the ready. He let the arrow fly, and it went straight into it’s eye.  
Pride screamed and pawed at the arrow uselessly, falling to it’s knees with a loud thud and Vanarel took the opportunity to send another arrow into its other eye. The creature finally fell down, unmoving.  
Tristen stared at it hard, watching and waiting for it to rise again. But it didn't, instead it disappeared, vanishing into nothingness as it’s essence returned to the Fade.  
He watched Vanarel kneel beside Asad, inspecting her burns and speaking with her about something the mage couldn't hear.  
She grinned at him and nodded, her eyes gleaming predatorily. Vanarel stood and walked to Rin’s side, helping her stand and talking to her for a bit as well.  
He turned to Tristen, waving him over.  
The mage stood on shaky legs, attempting to support himself on what felt like feathers. But he did and he hoped he didn't look as pathetic as he felt.  
“Shem, we need you to help us close this,” he said, motioning toward the rift. Tristen nodded and they all pointed their hands toward it, watching tendrils fly from their palms to the crystal.  
Pain exploded through him as the rift closed, a loud boom echoing through the area as they were thrown back. Tristen hit his head and blinked at the sky, watching the magic from the rift rise to the Breach and explode. Black creeped into the corners of his vision.  
He breathed shallowly, heat flooding through him in waves as agony pushed into his consciousness. The world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. So the idea of only uploading once every two weeks makes me sad (which was my original idea for a schedule) so I've decided to TRY to upload one chapter to this every Saturday. And one to Champions of Kirkwall every Sunday. I hope I can.  
> How did you like the chapter? I'd love your feedback!


	3. Asad

Asad punched at the air, her breath coming out in short gasps while she worked in semi-solitude. Camp wasn’t more than twenty meters away, but being out here felt better than within the confines of those gates. She should be freezing, she kind of was. The sweat pouring down her back seemed to freeze before it had the opportunity to hit the ground, her bare torso gleaming in the sunlight.  
But she liked this feeling, working out to the point of pure exhaustion, especially now that the world had gone batshit crazy on her. Her heavy breaths rang loudly in her ears.  
She heard whispers around her whenever she walked through Haven and she’d have to force herself to grit her teeth as she continued on her way, attempting to block out their voices.  
Bloody oxmen.  
Scary lot they are.  
Don’t piss it off, you know their kind.  
She growled as her fist collided with a tree trunk, the pain in her knuckles briefly overshadowing the pain in her palm. She glared at the mark and sighed, rubbing her brow, annoyance practically leaking out of her.  
“Worrying about that won't make it go away, you know,” a light voice said from above her and she glared at the elf as he sat on a tree branch above her, his legs dangling over the edge as he stared down at her.  
“What do you want, elf?” she growled at him. He chuckled at her and tilted his torso back, hanging upside down by his knees as he smirked at her.   
“Aw, is the poor little girl scared?” he taunted. She growled.  
Bloody elf was such a pain.  
Ever since they’d woken up and Cassandra had officially declared this blasted Inquisition thing, he’d been insufferable. If she was expected to help save the world, he’d have to learn to shut up.  
“I’m not scared of anything fool,” she growled. “Why don’t you come down here and I’ll show you.”  
He grinned and nimbly lowered himself, landing beside the Qunari silently. “How about a game?” he said tauntingly.  
“What are you talking about?” she spat.  
He smirked. “A game.”  
“I don’t have time for-”  
“I think you’ll like it,” he said in a sing-song voice, standing tall and brandishing a dagger, holding the blade between his index and middle finger. He smirked and flung his hand down, the dagger piercing the snow and standing straight up. “Try to grab the blade.”  
She quirked a brow. “How is this a game?” she asked, suspicion dripping from her words.  
He chuckled. She furrowed her brow and took a tentative step forward. Leaning down, she reached to grab it, but before she got the opportunity, it vanished.  
Looking up at him, she glared as he held the dagger, a smug look on his face. “Aw, did you miss something? It’s really quite simple.” he taunted, staring at the knife thoughtfully before chucking it closer to her. “Here, that wasn’t quite fair. So we’ll try ag-”  
She growled and dived toward it, narrowly avoiding hitting her head on a tree trunk and staring at the ground in front of her.  
“Where-?” she growled and looked up at him, tempted to knock his teeth out as he threw another smug grin at her. “How do you do that?”  
He tucked the dagger into his belt. “Now now,” he chuckles. “A gentleman never tells. Now come along, the Seeker called for us.”  
She growled and chased after him, pushing stray strands of hair back. “And you chose to play that idiotic game because-?”  
“Because I knew it would piss you off,” he said, grinning up at her. “You are so temperamental Qunari. Watch it, before someone puts you in your place.”  
He hurried forward, narrowly avoiding as she swung her thick arm at him. She growled at his retreating form, listening to him softly chuckle as he wandered away.  
She took a deep breath and looked at the sky, taking in the sight of the Breach. She forced herself to remember the whole reason she was still here, that the world would go belly up if she took off.  
She sighed and walked through the large gates of Haven, trying to ignore the stares she got. She walked quickly, hating the attention her size and horns got her. They were always something that kept her from being able to interact with humans, they either hated her for them or they fetisized them. She stiffened as she looked around, wondering which glances were for what reason before deciding it was better she didn’t know.  
She stepped into the Chantry and shivered, the cold lingering with her as her sweat dried and body temperature lowered.   
“Oh, hello there,” Josephine said, appearing so suddenly from around a pillar she startled Asad into jumping back a few feet. She laughed softly. “I apologize for frightening you, come, let us walk to the meeting together.”  
“I wasn’t scared,” she growled and Josephine looked surprised before bowing slightly.  
“My apologies,” she said kindly.  
She motioned for the Qunari to follow her, and she begrudgingly did.  
“What's this meeting about?” Asad asked, staring at the ambassador from the corner of her eye. She was pretty for a human, dark brown hair tied up in an intricate bun, her gold clothing making the specks of color in her eyes shine. Asad shook her head with a growl.  
“I think we should wait to discuss it until we are in the war room,” she said stiffly. “Ears.”  
The Qunari frowned but nodded, following her through the loud door and shutting it behind them.  
“Good, you are here,” Cassandra said. “We have gotten word from a Chantry mother in the Hinterlands.”  
“Oh, that was sudden,” Vanarel said from his place leaning against a nearby wall. “And what did this mother want?”  
“She offered us her aid,” Leliana said. “She has said-”  
Asad tuned them out, she didn't need to hear this, they'd catch her up when they decided what they were doing. Nobody would ask the oxman for her opinion.  
She idly played with a stray strand of her hair, staring at the ceiling and thought about what it had been like before the Inquisition began.  
It felt like it'd been years, not a few days since they'd woken up in a cabin with splitting headaches and fevers, having begun arguing the moment they saw each other and refusing to stop until someone had been sent for them. She'd thought it'd been decades since they had woken up in that cell together, and she didn't feel any better about them. Honestly, she hated everything about this, and the second she could leave she planned to.  
“Lady Adaar?” Josephine said, startling the Qunari from her thoughts.  
“What?”  
“I asked what you thought of the plan,” she said patiently.  
Asad felt her cheeks heat up. “What was the plan?”  
The spymaster sighed. “For the four of you to go to the Crossroads in the Hinterlands and speak with her,” she said, glaring at Asad a bit.  
“Do all four of us need to go?” she asked. She had no desire to be flaunted to their religious overseers, to be called a dreadful “oxman” again out in the wilderness.  
Leliana frowned. “I suppose you don't have to, but it may help our cause to see all of you together.”  
“If I don't have to go I'd prefer staying,” she said quickly.  
“Me as well,” Vanarel said, stretching his lithe body with a sigh. “I can be of more use here.”  
“And how are you ever of use, elf?” she growled.  
He sighed. “I hunt, and bring the meat back to the camp. I gather medicinal herbs or help with bringing water.” He quirked a brow. “What have you done to help, Qunari? With such a large ax, you'd think you could at least get firewood for these people.”  
Before Asad could make a defense for herself, Cassandra interrupted. “Enough,” she said, shutting them up. “I will take Cadash and Trevelyan, you two may stay here.”  
“Oh, this is kind of exciting,” Rin said, looking up at Tristen. “Isn’t Redcliffe near there? Can we visit while we-”  
“If this is over, I'm leaving,” Asad said, turning from the others and throwing the door open. She hurried through it but stopped in the long hall. She didn't want to go back outside, with the cold air sneaking up her back and so many sets of eyes making her shiver. She hated the apprehension she got whenever she thought about walking through a large crowd, everyone’s assumption that because of her horns she was a Qunari extremist. She’d never followed the Qun, never been given the opportunity to be anything but Tal-Vashoth.   
She growled and rushed forward, throwing the front door open with such force it slammed against the Chantry, startling nearby humans. Sighing she stepped through camp and retreated into the cabin she had been given to rest in, staring at the perfectly made bed. She hasn't slept in it, probably never would, instead choosing to nestle on the hard floor at night. She refused to rest on a bed that she’d have to curl up on to fit, lest her feet dangle off the edge. And sleeping on the ground reminded her of being on a job, sleeping under the stars and just talking to her company until the wee hours of the morning before grumpily getting up for the day.  
Sitting in a chair by the window she put her chin in her hand, staring out the window and into the sky.  
She wondered what the others from the Valo-kas, the mercenary group she’d been working with for years, were doing. Had they gotten a new job? Did they worry about her?  
She didn't expect it, they worked together, that's all it was. And that's all this was for now.  
She growled and rose from the chair with such force it fell back, landing with a loud thud against the wooden floor.  
She stared at the ax she kept in the cabin when she wasn’t using it, leaning against the wall, wickedly curved edge shining in the dim light from the window. She grabbed the handle roughly and lifted it, letting it rest on her shoulder as she stepped back out of the cabin.  
She hurried toward the forest, her steps heavy in the snow and her toes numb.  
“Fucking elf,” she mumbled and she stopped in front of a tree, grabbing the ax handle tightly between her hands. She pulled back and swung hard.

 

Vanarel laughed loudly, so much so he had to bend over to accommodate the sound rolling through his body. “You fucking idiot,” he wheezed. “That ax...it's not meant for-” he was cut off by another round of giggles.  
“What the hell were you thinking then?” she growled, watching Solas wrap her hands in bandages. “Telling me to use it to get firewood?”  
When she had tried to chop down the tree, her ax hadn't made much progress. And the longer it took for her to get through the trunk, the angrier she got about it.  
At some point she had finally given up and moved onto another tree, one with a smaller trunk, hoping it would make it easier to drop. But when she’d first swung for it, she had missed entirely, and her ax had hit the mountain, the handle shattering in her grasp.  
She suspected she still had pieces of it in her palms.  
“I didn't think you’d actually fucking try it,” he squealed, still laughing hard. “Its obvious that ax isn't meant for that kind of work.”  
“How is it obvious, elf?” she growled and hissed when Solas applied a bit more pressure onto her palm.  
“My apologies,” he said, in a tone that made it obvious he wasn't sorry. “Though it looks like I've fixed it as best I can, I am no healer.”  
“So what did you do then?” she growled, glaring at him as he wiped his hands on a handkerchief. As if wiping her filth from him.  
“I applied a salve and covered it so it wouldn't get infected,” he said, glaring at her from over his shoulder. “Now if you'll excuse me.” He walked out of her cabin, leaving Asad alone with the white-haired elf.  
“You're such a fucking idiot,” he chuckled, crossing his arms.  
“Get the hell out,” she snarled, glaring at him. He smirked.  
“I don't know if I want to.”  
She stood, growling as she got closer to him. His smirk stayed on his lips but he tensed, as if preparing for a fight.  
“I won't say it again, leave,” she said softly, with poison dripping from her words.  
He glared at her smugly. “And if I don't Qunari?”  
She growled and hit the wall by his head with her fist, making a large hole in it and trying to ignore the pain that shot up her arm.  
“Then I make you.”  
They stared at each other for several minutes, tense air heating with their aggression before he shrugged and strolled toward the door.  
“Whatever,” he said, smirking at her over his shoulder. “Bye then, oxman.”  
And he was gone before she could react to his retort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you liked this chapter, let me know what you think!


	4. Rinelsya

Rin walked behind the mage, her footsteps quiet despite the leaves that crackled under his feet. She nearly laughed at his comical attempts to quiet his footfalls, lifting his feet an amusing amount before setting them down as gently as possible.   
“You walk like a mage,” she said, giggling softly.   
He stared down at her, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”  
“You slouch, like you’ve spent more time bent over a book than walking,” she said lightly. “Did you read a lot in the Circle?”  
He looked away from her, his body tensing just the smallest amount. “I guess.”  
She frowned but chose not to push it, his aversion to the subject obvious in his stance. “Do you have any siblings?”  
“A few, I believe,” he said, eyes drifting over the area as if looking for threats despite his inability to tell friend from foe.  
“What do you mean?” she asked.   
“I’ve only seen one, but according to my file I had more,” he said softly. “I’ve never met most of them.”  
“Your file?” she asked, tilting her head a bit to the side. “The Circle file?”  
“Y-yeah, um,” he cleared his throat. “Why are you asking?”  
She blinked once more than was probably smart, the suspicion on his face growing as he watched her face freeze.   
“I-I...well…” she began before clearing her throat. “I’m just curious.”  
“Why?”   
She internally flinched at his tone, mentally berating herself for arousing his suspicions.   
“Well,” she said slowly, thinking as she spoke. “We have to work together, so why not get to know each other?”  
He frowned and lifted his hand, moving to rub his brow. “I apologize, the air here is tense,” he said softly, glancing around. “The people don’t care much for a mage.”  
She bit the inside of her cheek. “They don’t seem to much care for a dwarf either,” she said, smiling up at him. “I don’t think they’ll like any of us.”  
“You can say that again,” he chuckled, smiling softly.   
“I don’t think they’ll like any of us,” she repeated and he laughed.   
“Whoa, was that a smile Twinkles?” Varric asked, his deep voice rumbling from behind Rin.  
Tristen glared at the dwarf. “I smile all the time,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”  
Varric chuckled and pat the mage on the back. “Calm down Twinkles, I get it.”  
“Get what?”  
“You weren’t held enough as a baby,” he laughed. “Don’t worry, papa dwarf is here.”  
Varric held his arms out in mock invitation and Tristen rolled his eyes, pointedly turning his back to the dwarf.   
In her time with the Inquisition Rin had made a few deductions.   
Varric was a likeable man, his easygoing smile and laid back attitude helping him get along with almost anyone. Which was good, considering he likely has more than a few enemies from his time with the Dwarven Merchants Guild. But behind that smile, he seemed different. She couldn’t quite pinpoint how so.  
Vanarel seemed like a good man, albeit a bit immature. He seemed ready to trip all over himself for a tumble with a stranger but when Solas scolded him, he seemed to take the words to heart. And he was kind to Rin, which was pleasant.  
Asad seemed more than ready to run as soon as all this was over, her rivalry with Vanarel brewing everyday. In all honesty, Rin worried about leaving the two of them at Haven alone. Their arguments were slowly getting worse, and what was the point of all this without the infrastructure of the Inquisition?  
Leliana was kind if not a bit...frightening. Especially when she was working with her agents, as if she was worried if they saw her act like a human being they’d suddenly lose all loyalty for her. Her and Vanarel constantly argued about her methods with dealing with traitors, his heated voice angering her until she reluctantly but inevidently broke.   
Cullen was awkward, she figured with his bulky armor it’d be hard for him to move with any real efficiency or finesse, but she was wrong. Seeing him in a fight was a pleasant surprise. Vanarel seemed to think it was funny to throw a flirtatious wink at the Commander or knock the poor man on his ass when they brawled with a smirk. Asad seemed to like him, if their training together had been any indication.   
Solas was nice but so mysterious. Rin hated mysterious, she hated when she couldn’t read a person well enough. He kept too much hidden, his body language not telling enough. She was uncomfortable around the elf and made no secret of it, twitching whenever he got too near. She’s seen enough people like him to know things won’t end well with him there.  
Josephine was cutthroat. Rin liked cutthroat. She killed with her words, which were a lot less messy than a blade.  
Tristen had been difficult for Rin to understand, mainly because she didn’t want to rely on body language or sly hints he gave off in his speech to understand him. She wanted him to consider her as his friend, but he seemed reluctant to open up to anybody. And that made her sad.  
Rin sighed, forcing herself out of her head. She glanced around, taking in the uncomfortable setting of the wilderness. Rams grazed nearby and the wind blew lazily through the branches.  
“Look’s like the Seeker’s back,” Varric said, leaning his head back so he could see around a tree better. They watched Cassandra climb up the small incline the path had, her face red from the heat the sun gave off.  
“Mother Giselle,” she said when she arrived, her breath heavy, “has requested the two of you go to speak with her.”  
Rin frowned. “Why?”  
“I am unaware, but I assume it is because you two have your marks,” she said.   
“Does this have something to do with people saying we were divinely touched?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.  
Cassandra glared at the dwarf. “It might,” she said. “I have no way of knowing. Go and speak with her if you are curious.”  
Rin walked past the Seeker, ignoring Tristen’s heavy footfalls as he caught up with her. If this really was the bloody Maker’s plan then there’d either better be good drinks or a great laugh at the end of it.  
Her mind wandered as they walked, the mage’s footsteps fading from her thoughts as she considered writing to her brothers. Not that she would. If they had their way, they’d probably storm Haven’s gates by themselves. They’d get pretty far too, before Cullen probably cut them down. Or Varric got them all to calm down and have a drink.  
She chuckled softly.  
“What are you thinking about?”   
Rin turned to the soft voice beside her, feeling Tristen’s bright green eyes on her as he pointedly tried to keep facing forward. Rin cleared her throat.  
“My brothers,” she said softly. “I was thinking about writing them for a moment.”  
The mage frowned. “Why don’t you?”  
“They won’t much like the idea of me being a part of this,” she said, the smile falling from her lips. “If I’m being honest, I’m not sure I like the idea of me being a part of this.”  
He was silent for a long time, not talking again until they had gotten to Mother Giselle. And by the end of that conversation, Rin was so tense she was surprised at her ability to keep from snapping at the holy figure.  
Tristen seemed to have perfect control though, not even commenting on what she said about magic, instead focusing solely on diplomacy. Rin had to admit, he was pretty good at it.  
I was a good little apprentice, I did what I was told!  
The words he had said at the Temple still rang through her head, the way his voice had cracked, the hatred there seemed to be in those words. She frowned, worry filling her thoughts as she watched him talk to the Revered Mother, his tone even and gentle. When he was done, he turned to her and smiled, motioning for her to follow him into a semi-secluded area.   
“I understand what you mean,” he said gently, leaning against a tree and crossing his arms. “I haven’t written to my family since I left the Circle.”  
“Was that for them or for you?” she asks softly, watching him from the corner of her eye as she stares at the darkening sky, daylight quickly leaving them. He visibly tenses but says nothing in response.   
She sighs and chooses not to push it, opting instead to watch Cassandra as she speaks with Corporal Vale about his efforts for the people here. Her eyes drifted over the area and the sight of people with the Inquisition’s brand on their armor made her sick, the glances the pair got as they stood and looked at the Breach making her twitch.  
“Heralds,” Cassandra says as she hurries up to them. “We must return to Haven to gather the others, and then go to Val Royeaux.”  
Rin tensed. She wasn't sure she was prepared to return to Haven yet, the eyes of all those faithful people on her frightened her in a way she wasn’t ready to admit. They’d already tried to seal the Breach, and they’d failed. What if it couldn’t be closed? What if they’d gotten all these people and taken them away from their families only to give them false hope, only to give them an early grave and cold sleeping quarters? What if-  
Rin cut herself off, taking a deep breath as she forcing herself to calm. Thinking about it wouldn’t help, Maker she was a member of the Carta, she had control. She knew how to keep herself composed in situations like this, she knew damn it.  
She bit the inside of her cheek, taking the already ragged flesh in between her teeth and opening the barely healed wound. Copper flooded her mouth and the familiar taste helped calm her, as well as the sting from the reopened wound. They helped her remember how to breath properly, how to keep her head when others would lose theirs.  
She tuned into the conversation Cassandra and Tristen were having, some argument.  
“We don’t have time to go to Haven,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at her. “We need to head straight to Val Royeaux.”  
“We cannot simply leave them in the dark,” she argued. Her face revealed more emotion than she may have been willing to say she felt, her eyes lighting up with a fire that meant she knew what she wanted and she was getting it. “They need to know, and we need to decide on a plan together.”  
“So send a bird,” he growled. “We don’t have the time.”  
“We have plenty of time.”  
“It’s an entire extra day for that detour, we do not.”  
“We will go to Haven,” she said. “And you will not be going to Val Royeaux.” She turned to walk away and growled when he jumped in front of her.  
“Don't you dare tell me where I will not be going, Seeker,” he spat her title, like it was a foul taste he had on his tongue.  
Varric quickly intervened, shoving his body between the two of them. “Ok, look, we are all just a little tired,” he said hurriedly, succeeding in keeping them from going at each other’s throats. “Or a lot tired. Maybe we should set camp for the night, it’s almost sundown.”  
Cassandra sighs. “Agreed,” she said softly, turning away from them and walking off, her stride full of confidence and brimming with aggression. Tristen sighed and followed a few feet behind her, keeping his lips sealed and his footsteps as quiet as he could manage them.   
“You seem quiet,” Varric said, crossing his arms as he turned to Rin with a heavy sigh. “Something on your mind?”  
“I’m fine,” she said, a bit too quickly. She mentally scolded herself for how sloppy she’s been. Too many people have been able to read her emotions way too well and that thought frightened her. If she were like this back with her brothers, if she was working like this she’d be dead by sundown.  
“I’m sure you are,” he chuckled, smiling kindly at her. “Just know, if you need to talk, your very own Varric Tethras is here.”  
She snorted before quickly covering her face, attempting to hide the embarrassing sound before he heard it, as if that were possible. He grinned at her.  
“Was that you, Sugar?” he asked, failing in his attempt to keep from laughing.  
“Why do you call me Sugar?” she asked in an attempt to keep him from remembering the noise.   
“I’m terrible with names,” he chuckles.  
“But why that one in particular?”  
He shrugs. “You’re sweet.”  
She blushed, her tan face turning a deeper shade of red than she thought possible. Now she was really happy her brothers weren’t there, knowing them they’d probably threaten to break Varric’s kneecaps for such a harmless remark.   
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said hurriedly. “I-shit, I meant you’re nice. You care a lot about other people.” She frowned and kept herself from crossing her arms, instead shoving them into her pockets as she stared hard at him. He held his hands up defensively. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like an insult, no need to look at me like that. I’ve just...I’ve seen you at Haven.”  
“You’ve seen a lot of people at Haven, I’m sure,” she said, glancing away from him.   
“I meant, I’ve seen you staying up pretty late helping patch people up or handing out blankets and all that,” he said, his smile evident in his voice. “It’s good of you.”  
If it were possible, she got redder. “Everybody’s been helping,” she said softly. “It’s not that big of a deal.”  
He was quiet for several seconds and she chanced a glance at him from the corner of her eye. He was gazing wistfully up at the quickly darkening sky, his eyes holding a pain in them she wasn’t familiar with. She cleared her throat.   
“I’m going to camp,” she said, walking away quickly. He didn’t say anything back.  
It wasn’t a long walk, not much time to think between point A and point B, but it was long enough for her to shove that wistful, longing look Varric had from her mind. And when one of the scouts handed her a warm bowl of porridge, she was almost thankful for the thick slop.  
When she sat down in front of the fire to wolf down the meal, she was surprised Cassandra sat beside her. She had no bowl in her hand, no obvious reason to be sitting so close to the dwarf.  
For several minutes she didn’t talk, just looked through a pile of reports from scouts throughout the Hinterlands. Rin was a bit upset that her or Tristen hadn’t been given anything to review, no tactics were talked out with them. Not a single report was handed to them to read. In fact, no reports had been passed to any of them.  
She was one of the Heralds after all, they were all supposedly divinely touched, so why did it seem as though they had no say in the way this bloody Inquisition was heading?  
She sighed and stared into her nearly empty bowl, the remnants of the thick food sticking to the sides. Setting the bowl near the fire she stood quietly, ignoring the look her quick escape got her from Cassandra and walked toward her tent, throwing herself in with a groan.  
Sore muscles clenched and released and for the first time all day she allowed herself to wince at the pull in her lower back, finally gave herself free reign to feel her pain. She felt like a giant bruise and she was sure if she was willing to look at her feet they’d be covered in blisters and blood.   
She forced herself to sit up and remove her boots, biting her lip to keep from groaning as the tight confines released from her pained feet.   
She’d probably never get used to all this bloody wilderness, she hated how many roots she tripped on and how many times she’d fallen down hills because a bush kept the edge of it hidden from view.   
She laid back down, refusing to look at her feet as they grew accustomed to the chilly night air. Curling up, she threw the thick blanket she’d been given over herself, feeling it settle across her. Rin brought her hand close to her face, the sickly green light filling the small space beneath the blanket. She sighed and closed her eyes, falling into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you're liking it so far, please let me know what you think!


	5. Vanarel Lavellan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanarel Lavellan needs to remember that he doesn't know the people here, and he needs to be wary. It's growing to be dreadfully tiresome, but luckily for him, a certain shemlen mage is willing to help with that.

Vanarel walked through Haven, breathing in the cold air and felt it sear his throat. He smiled at the feeling.  
“You there,” he heard Cullen shout from nearby and he perked up, grinning at the man. “There's a shield in your hand, block with it!”  
He was curious what the man looked like out of that uniform, whether he was just as commanding in solitude as he was in public. He was curious if any of those here had seen the stoic man come undone, seen him in the midst of passion or sorrow and-  
“Hello there,” he heard from closer to him and he jumped, squeaking. The Commander chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his head. “I apologize, I didn't mean to startle you.”  
“Oh no,” Vanarel laughed, perhaps a bit too loudly. Damn, he needed to remember to keep himself under control. “I'm fine, what is it, Commander? How can I help you?”  
He frowned. “You were standing all alone,” he said. “And looking off into space, I was concerned for you.”  
Vanarel bit the inside of his cheek and waved a hand dismissively. “There's no need to waste your worry on me,” he chuckled. “I'm fine.”  
Cullen frowned but chose not to push it. “How have you settled into Haven?”  
“Quite nicely,” the elf said. “I'm not accustomed to sleeping on my own yet though, I prefer having someone with me.” He winked.  
Cullen chuckled and cleared his throat. “Yes, I imagine the Dalish may have different ways of life,” he said, looking toward his soldiers.  
The elf huffed out a small breath, pushing his hair back from his face. What an oblivious man.  
“Yes, I suppose you live much differently than I am accustomed to,” he said, glancing at the Commander from the corner of his eye. “I can't imagine how any of you sleep alone, it gets dreadfully cold.”  
“I apologize,” he said, and from his tone he sounded truly apologetic. How cute. “It must be a bit of a shock. If there is anything I can do to help you adjust, let me know.”  
“Oh?” Vanarel quirked a brow. “There is one thing.”  
Cullen turned to him and pulled a canteen from his belt bringing it to his lips. “Name it.”  
“Sleep with me tonight.”  
The reaction he had gotten wasn't really what he had expected but it was still amusing. Cullen spluttered, spitting his water out with a shocked face, the liquid dripping down his chin. Vanarel bit back his laughter.  
“Are you alright, Commander?” he asked, with just the right amount of worry to seem convincing. “Have I said something wrong?”  
“N-no I-” Cullen coughed into his hand and turned away from him, his ears turning an amusing shade of pink. Vanarel quirked a brow.  
“I apologize if I've made you uncomfortable,” he said. “You know, the Dalish live so differently from you normal people.”  
Cullen stared at him hard. “You...are joking?”  
“I am,” he laughed. “Sort of, I would be lying if I said I didn't want to sleep beside another warm body, but it is not something that is a Dalish way of life. It simply gets freezing at night, but if you’re willing to help with that I certainly wouldn’t say no.”  
If it were possible the Commander got redder and Vanarel chuckled softly. “I-I um…” He cleared his throat.  
“Commander,” one of the scouts walked up swiftly, capturing the flustered man’s attention. “Report.”  
Cullen turned to him, and didn't seem to notice the elf leaving. Or if he did, he chose not to comment on it. Vanarel chuckled as he got further away, certain no one could hear him.  
“You seem rather fond of making our Commander blush,” a sly voice said near him and he turned to it, smirking at the redhead who at this moment, was doing the same to him.  
“What can I say?” he chuckled. “He turns the absolute cutest shade of pink.”  
She laughed softly. “It certainly brings his eyes out.”  
“You’re correct about that,” he said softly, looking back at the Commander. Their eyes met for a second before the blonde looked away and Vanarel bit his lip to keep from laughing.  
“All I have to say is,” Leliana paused, drawing his attention. “He will not be interested in you.”  
The elf quirked a brow. “Oh, I apologize my dear,” he said dramatically, bowing deeply. “It was not my intention to make any of those here uncomfortable. I will attempt to do better from now on.”  
She chuckled softly, the sound making one of her nearby ravens ruffle its feathers, as if pleased. “I was not aware one of our Heralds was such a kind young man,” she joked.  
“Oh no,” he said with mock concern. “Don’t tell the people that, where will my reputation be then?”  
She laughed again and they spoke for a few more minutes, his light joking keeping her pleased and she walked away with a small smile gracing her lovely lips. He smirked at her retreating form, she deserved more laughter.  
“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” someone said from behind him softly, startling the young elf into squeaking again. Solas smiled kindly at him. “My apologies, I did not intend to startle you.”  
“Oh hahren,” he said hurriedly. “Is there anything I can help you with?”  
Solas quirked a brow and Vanarel internally scolded himself. The man was capable of surviving without him following him like a young duckling. The young elf ran his hand threw his hair, feeling the length slide up his neck as he moved it.  
“Actually,” Solas said softly. “we haven’t had the opportunity to talk much since the events at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. And I did promise you we would speak more.”  
“I didn’t think you remembered,” he said, chuckling softly. He swallowed thickly, feeling the older elf’s eyes on him. Mythal’s mercy, why did he have to request shit like this?  
Ever since he was a child he was always pulling people away from their duties, forcing his sister to play with him when she was supposed to be learning ancient magics. He’d even talked the “Keeper” into telling him stories when he was supposed to be learning how to use his bow properly.  
“Of course I remembered,” Solas said, smiling kindly. “Now come, any questions you have I will do my best to answer.”  
Vanarel nodded and followed him to his cabin, where they sat in silence for several minutes while Solas poured him a warm cup of tea. The young elf grabbed the mug and took a large gulp, immediately scalding his throat. He coughed hoarsely, covering his mouth as the pain almost overwhelmed the dull ache in his hand.  
“Are you alright?” Solas asked, hurrying over to the younger elf and wrapping a gentle hand around his throat. Before Vanarel could say anything, he felt the cool sweep of magic as Solas healed the raw hurt. He stepped back much too soon, and Vanarel already missed his warmth. “There, that should be better. Please be careful next time.”  
Vanarel coughed softly and nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment. He glared at the cup in front of him, steam still rising from it. He ran gentle fingers over his throat, feeling the ghost of Solas’s fingers on it as he thought of his time back with his clan, back when an old lover of his had enjoyed using his own hands like that, much less gently.  
Vanarel shook his head, forcing old memories away from the forefront of his mind. Remembering did him no good now. It never had.  
“Da’len?” Vanarel internally flinched at the word. “Is something wrong?”  
He quickly threw on his most winning smile and stood, careful not to spill a single drop of tea as he set the cup down with shaking hands. “Of course, hahren,” he said, smiling at the older elf as he turned away. “I just remembered I promised Asad I’d belittle her today, perhaps we can speak another time.”  
He left before Solas could say anything more, forcing himself away from warm hands and secret past moments.  
He walked through camp, smiling and talking happily to anyone who called for his attention. But, he didn’t approach anyone, and he certainly made no effort to seek out Asad. He didn’t have the energy to argue with her right now, no matter how much fun it usually was.  
Instead he wandered, watching the troops train or Leliana give out orders to her scouts. He even stopped by Josephine’s office for a few minutes and helped her deal with some noble who had the nerve to try to kick all their people out in the cold.  
When trumpets sounded, signaling the return of the other “Heralds” he sighed in relief. He needed something to do, and hunting was out of the question here. There wasn’t enough wildlife, if he spent too much time out in these sparse woods with his bow, he’d hurt the people here more than he’d help them.  
Vanarel crossed his arms and leaned against the Chantry as he watched Cassandra ride in, her horse’s exhaustion obvious in it’s stance. She glared at the elf as she stepped past him and he sighed. Kicking off the building, he walked forward to greet the others, a smile for Rin and a firm handshake for Tristen.  
“Where’s Asad?” the dwarf asked, her dark brown hair bobbing as she looked around.  
“She’s probably in her cabin, why?” he asked.  
“We all need to be present for this report,” Tristen said as he tugged his cloak off and turned to Rin. “Can you go get her? You’re probably the only person she won’t threaten to kill on her doorstep.”  
Rin nodded with a cheerful smile and ran off, hurriedly trying to gather the temperamental Qunari. Vanarel turned to the mage in front of him.  
“What happened?” he asked.  
Tristen remained silent, spending too much bloody time in his head before answering. The elf found how long he took to answer a damn question infuriating.  
“We need to go to Val Royeaux.”  
Vanarel frowned. “Why?”  
The mage shuffled uncomfortably. “It’s better if this is discussed while everyone’s present, and in the war room.”  
The elf sighed but nodded and turned away from the human, walking quickly through the Chantry. His footsteps were silent, years of walking through the woods hunting after frightful animals giving him sufficient practice in the art of stealth.  
He heard Rin hurry in through the main door as he neared the war room and he stopped so she could catch up with him, Asad close on her heels. Vanarel, like the gentleman he was, held the door open for the dwarf and proceeded to slam it in the Qunari’s face, a sly smirk on his face.  
When she opened it, he had been expecting the glare he got and he chose to ignore her heavy breathing as she wiped her nose. A thin strip of blood shone on her dark hand and she growled at him.  
“Fucking elf,” she spat at him, quietly enough so as not to be heard by the advisors. They’d been yelled at about their arguing before.  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said smugly. He also hadn’t been surprised when her strong hands grabbed him by the front of his coat, lifting him a few feet from the ground.  
“Bull shit,” she growled.  
Their little argument rose in volume, alerting the others in the room of the tense air between the two, as if her holding him a foot off the ground hadn’t been sufficient enough to get their attention.  
“I’d remove your hands from me, if I were you,” Vanarel said softly. He glared down at the Qunari.  
She may be stronger, but he was faster. And it wouldn’t be terribly difficult to slink out of the coat and kick the back of her knees.  
“Maker’s breath,” Cullen growled from a few feet away. “Would you two act like adults for five bloody minutes?”  
“I wasn’t doing anything,” Vanarel said, a smug smile on his face as he looked down at Asad. She growled and threw him back, listening to him hit the wall hard.  
He grunted at the impact, reveling in the soreness that spread from his back, helping him ignore the palm of his hand. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tightness there as she glared down at him. Cullen, being the adult that he was, quickly intervened, lifting the elf easily and dropping him off on the other side of the table. Far away from the Qunari.  
“If you two are quite done,” Cassandra spat, her eyes throwing daggers at Vanarel who simply blew a kiss at her. “We must decide what we are going to do next.”  
“I’d say we need to know what happened while you were away,” Vanarel said quickly. He took to inspecting his nails, disinterest shining on his face as he listened to her speak, picking up every word.  
“I believe the mage should stay here,” she said hurriedly, making her dislike of Tristen obvious on her face.  
He glared at her. “As much as your concern is appreciated Seeker, I will be going.”  
“As many of them as possible should go,” Josephine said quickly, interrupting Cassandra from spitting out the words on the tip of her tongue. “If we are to convince the world that Andraste’s Heralds are...well, all of you, then a public appearance with all of you would be necessary.”  
“I’m not your bloody Herald,” Vanarel said quickly, crossing his arms as he stared at the Ambassador hard. She glared at him delicately.  
“As much as you might disagree with it, that is what the people have labelled you,” she said. “It would work to our advantage if you used that for our gain.”  
“So, you want me to lie to the people we are supposed to be saving?” he growled. “I won’t do it.”  
“Oh, since when are you so bloody noble?” Asad spat. He chose to ignore her, which must’ve made her blood boil.  
“Enough,” Leliana interrupted them. “We can discuss this at another time. The point it, it is best if all of you go. The people are more likely to believe it if they see you all together.”  
The elf sighed and forced himself from crossing his arms again, instead opting to twirl one of the small daggers he kept in his belt between his fingers.  
Cullen ran his hand through his hair. “If it’s decided then-”  
“Nothing’s been decided yet, shem,” Vanarel said, his eyes burning into the Commander’s. Cullen looked surprised and glared back. Such a different expression than that shy, little boy Vanarel had teased earlier and it made the elf happy. Making people feel like people again, not like they were just burdens of command, that’s something they needed more of.  
“The four of you will go,” Leliana said. “We will leave at dawn. Now just go.”  
Asad seemed more than willing to leave the cramped room, knocking her shoulder into the elf’s as she exited. Rin followed her quickly, seemingly in a rush to make friends with the other woman.  
The advisors left one by one, all of them throwing varying glances at the elf as he twirled his dagger, smirking at all of them in turn. When the door clicked close he was surprised he hadn’t been left entirely alone. The shemlen mage wandered around the war table, muttering things to himself as he looked at it intensely.  
Vanarel leaned against the wall, eyeing the human while he stared at the markers on the map. The silence stretched between them and the elf tilted his head back, closing his eyes as he heard the blood pound in his ears.  
“You seem temperamental,” Tristen said suddenly, surprising the elf into peeking one eye open. The mage had his eyes glued to the table, as if worried if he were caught staring something awful would happen.  
Vanarel grunted, acknowledging he’d heard the other but not really answering. He stayed quiet for several more minutes, pretending to focus on the table and strategies.  
“Have you adjusted well here?”  
He grunted again. Tristen sighed and ghosted his hands across the table, not touching any of the markers but letting his fingers drift across them. He ran his hand through his short hair, pulling at the dark tuft. Vanarel frowned.  
He was clearly uncomfortable, why did he stay here, with the savage elf?  
“We haven’t really spoken since we came here,” he said, his voice softening. “I was wondering if perhaps you have been treated unkindly.”  
“And why do you care, shem?” he asked, kicking himself from the wall with his dagger blade held between his fingers. He stalked toward the human, his boots moving silently over the rough, wooden floor. Tristen watched him for a moment before glancing away. “Because I’m an elf?”  
Vanarel could see the way his throat constricted, showing he swallowed. He was nervous, anxiousness pouring from him like sweat. “I know what it’s like to be treated poorly for something that you were born with,” he said finally, staring hard at his hands.  
“Oh?” the elf muttered. “Is that so? And tell me, how have you been treated for your magic?”  
He continued stepping toward the man, the distance between them closing slowly and Tristen shifted uncomfortably. But he didn’t move away.  
“Poorly,” was all he said, and he sounded breathless.  
The elf smiled at him as he came to a stop, his body a mere breath away. “My apologies then,” Vanarel whispered, moving his lips closer to the shell of the mage’s ear. He felt the man shiver as the warm breath ghosted across his skin. “Nobody has treated me unkindly for my ears, and they shouldn’t have treated you poorly for your abilities. However, I appreciate your concern.”  
Satisfied with the human’s reaction, Vanarel moved to step back but was stopped when cold hands wrapped around his slim arms and dragged him closer, forcing equally cold lips against his own.  
He smirked and kissed the mage back, feeling what must have been years of pent up arousal flood from the man’s lips into his own. He was held tightly, but gently. He could step away at any moment if he wished, but why would he?  
He deserved a bit of fun. And as he saw the mage sweep the map and markers off the war table, heard them all clatter to the ground and felt his body get roughly laid down on the hard wood he grinned.  
This would definitely be a bit of fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry I haven't posted here in awhile but I kind of lost my motivation for this story. That, and as I've mentioned in COK I am terrible when it comes to time management. Luckily, I now have my motivation for this story back and I am trying to schedule things out a bit better! So I will hopefully be uploading every week again! Please tell me what you thought of the chapter, constructive criticism is always welcome, as per usual.
> 
> Check out my tumblr, where I will post random art things when I'm not writing: https://carpaltunnelandchocolate.tumblr.com/


	6. Tristen Trevelyan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Heralds go to Val Royeaux to meet with the Grand Clerics but Tristen can't stop thinking about a certain white-haired elf.

It was stupid. Stupid and impulsive.  
And when Tristen walked into Val Royeaux, he felt tense, despite the escapades he had had not even three days earlier. Bloody elf.  
Luckily for him, he didn’t get the opportunity to think much about it during their travels to the city, most of their moments spent defending themselves from bandits or closing rifts or getting some bloody rest.  
The mage rubbed his temple, feeling the beginnings of a headache push at his mind. He sighed and watched as a woman shrieked, her high-pitched voice hurting his ears, and rush away from them. A scout greeted them at the gate, bowing before them.  
Tristen hated that part the most. His whole damn life he’d been nothing more than a dirty mage, especially dirty. Extremely dirty.  
His mother had resented the fact that she’d given birth to a child with magic, had disowned him the second she’d found out about his abilities. His only sibling at the time had looked at him like he was a demon, her fear spurred on by their mother’s. Tristen’s father had dragged him kicking and screaming to the Circle, not even bothering to call for the Templars, instead dumping him on their doorstep without turning back.  
It had been snowing that day.  
The mage sighed and tried to glance back, stiffening when his eyes met Vanarel’s. The elf smirked at him before he turned away, his face flushing. Bloody elf.  
When they’d left the war room with tousled hair and swollen lips Vanarel had walked off, his hips swaying confidently and he made no attempt to hide the marks that had been left on his neck. Everytime Solas looked at Tristen, he’d tense. He clearly cared for Vanarel a great deal, and Tristen would hate to be the focal point of that elf’s ire.  
He shook his head, forcing the images of a pale, sweaty back and bright blue eyes looking up from on his knees out of his mind. Instead, he did what he could to listen to the revered figure in front of him as she shrieked, claiming the Maker wouldn’t send such a ragtag team of awful creatures to save the world, seemingly oblivious to the fact that elves, Qunari, dwarves, and mages lived in Thedas.  
Despite his increasing dislike for her, he’d immediately gotten defensive when the Lord Seeker had knocked her down, his metal covered fist colliding with her jaw and undoubtedly leaving a mark that would last for weeks on such pale skin. Cassandra had practically begged for his help and Tristen had forced himself to stay in the background as she’d argued, listening faintly to the sounds of discourse as the others joined in.  
But in the end, they’d been left behind, the sounds of heavy footfalls echoing throughout the marketplace as the Templars left. Tristen felt the tension slowly leak from his body as he knelt beside her, reaching gentle hands out to stroke her cheek. Despite his dislike for her, he let a small amount of healing magic flow from his hand to her, masking the pain and lightening the already forming bruise and she stuttered on her breath.  
Her eyes looked at him with a mix of fear and gratitude, however, the fear seemed to win out as she scampered away from him. He sighed and felt a presence come up behind him. He tensed reflexively, ready to defend the woman if it were necessary, but all Vanarel did was kneel beside her and inspect her cheek with disinterest.  
“I guess our little mage here helped heal it,” he said, soft enough for only those already on the ground to hear. He used his hand to raise her chin so their eyes met and hers widened. “It’s only polite if you show your gratitude.” Tristen saw the elf’s hand tighten on her cheek, his nails digging into the healing wound and she winced.  
“That’s not necessary,” the mage said hurriedly, watching as the elf’s hand tightened more. He reached forward, grabbing Vanarel’s shoulder and dragging him back roughly. “Stop it.”  
The elf stared at him hard before shrugging, standing and walking off to talk with Solas for a moment, nodding at the mage kneeling beside the Revered Mother.  
“I apologize for him,” Tristen said, bowing as best he could while already on his knees. “He is a bit-”  
“Tell me,” she said, interrupting him with an urgency that silenced the man. “Were you sent by Andraste? Were all of you? Were we wrong?”  
Tristen ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “I don’t believe we were sent by Andraste,” he said softly. “We are simply trying to seal the Breach.”  
She looked at him and nodded. “You don’t know how comforting that really is.”  
He frowned and stood, turning away from her with a heavy heart. He’d always doubted, but even now, regret clenched around his heart as he thought about what he’d been taught growing up. Magic was a sin, something to be hated and shunned. But if that were so, why did the Maker still give people magic? Did he simply enjoy watching his children suffer?  
Did he hate them that much?  
Tristen shook his head and turned his attention to the others, tuning into their argument. Cassandra and Asad seemed to think going after the Templars was still worth it, that the Lord Seeker’s actions today hadn’t completely condemned them.  
“It doesn’t matter what we decide here,” Rin said finally, calling all of their attention to her. “We need to report back and see what the others think. As much as you might like to think it,” she turned to Cassandra, “you are not one of our advisors.”  
The woman stiffened as she glared at the dwarf, but sighed and nodded reluctantly. They all began walking toward the large gates, preparing to leave but Vanarel quickly stepped in front of Tristen, pressing his body back and knocking the mage down. He felt a sharp pain in his backside from landing on the hard floor.  
“Hey-”  
“Watch where you’re going shem,” he said softly, kneeling down to pick up an arrow that, if Tristen hadn’t been shoved back, would’ve hit him in the foot. The elf quickly read the note, paraphrasing it’s contents to the others despite it’s extremely cryptic writing. “I will search for these clues, speak with him.” He pointed toward a man wearing Circle robes, the sight of them making Tristen sick, before turning away. “He seems to be trying to get your attention.”  
Vanarel had stalked off, re-reading the note as he walked and mumbling to himself. Tristen stood quickly, brushing dirt and leaves from his backside as he watched the mage hand an invitation to Rin.  
“It seems to be for a Salon,” she said, reading the beautifully embroidered paper out loud. “It would appear as though we’ve been invited as guests of the Inquisition by a Grand Enchanter Vivienne.”  
Tristen rolled his eyes. “And does it say what this Grand Enchanter wants?”  
She shook her head. “It looks like it’s just an invitation for a party,” she said, staring hard at the paper before tucking it into her belt. “No matter, we can discuss all of this back at Haven.”  
“Oh, another invite?” Vanarel quipped. Rin squealed and fell back, rubbing her back as she looked up at the elf, his hair dangling in the air with the rest of his upper body as he hung upside down from a weapon shop’s roof. He grinned at her. “You scared, little girl?”  
She glared at him but smiled as she stood, wiping dirt from her backside. “Never.”  
“Oh, feisty,” he chuckled and lifted himself up, jumping off the edge of the building and nearly giving Cassandra a heart attack as he landed beside her. He winked as he stood, making her glare at him. “This seems to be in regards to us.” He held up a few sheets of paper, handing one to each of them.  
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Asad said, glaring at the paper as she turned it to stare at the words from another angle.  
“Aw, is the poor little Qunari confused?” he said, mock concern riding his words. She growled and he chuckled softly.   
“Is it coded?” Rin asked. “Some message they think only we’d understand?”  
He grinnned. “Kind of.”  
That stupid smile, stupid curve of his stupid lips. Memories flitting through Tristen’s mind that he tried to force back into the recesses.  
“Would you just tell us already,” Asad growled, glaring at him while shredding the paper in between her fists.  
The elf smiled mischievously, his eyes glinting while he looked at her. “Perhaps I enjoy this game.”  
“Vanarel,” Tristen said, crossing his arms and staring at him hard. The elf looked surprised to be addressed directly but turned to the mage eagerly.  
“Yes, my lord?” he said, bowing sarcastically. The way his hair fell over his shoulder was familiar and it made Tristen grit his teeth.  
“Just tell us already,” Cassandra growled, interrupting the two.   
“You’re no fun Seeker,” he pouted playfully.  
“Tell us da’len,” Solas said, and as if a flip had been switched in his mind, he seemed eager to comply.  
“A message from some ‘Friends of Red Jenny’. It’s seems as though she’s eager to meet us,” he said, smiling proudly at the elf. “Assumably she wants to help us.”  
“Assuming things could get you killed,” Asad grumbled as she read the notes.   
Tristen looked back at the Revered Mother. She seemed to be attempting to stand, her stance wobbly and she leaned heavily on another holy figure that stood by her side. As if she could feel his stare she looked up, her face tightening before she turned away. Tristen sighed.  
He’d always hated his magic, always seen it as a curse that flowed through his blood as surely as his ties to the Trevelyans of the world. He glared at his hand, the dormant mark taking the form of a thick scar in the palm of his hand and he conjured up a small, purple flame. He’d taken comfort in this while he was at the Circle, that even though the Templars had taken his family and his life, his innocence, that he could still control himself to this degree. He could still do this.  
“Hey, shem,” a nearby voice said, making him jump and the small flame in his hand dissipate. Vanarel’s expression startled Tristen. His eyes were so expressive, big blue orbs carrying worry he would’ve vehemently denied having. “Time to head out.”  
Such a cocky grin made Tristen wonder what had happened in the elf’s past to make him try so hard to hide himself. Not that he was one to talk, his own past was one he enjoyed keeping to himself.  
Bile rose in his throat, which he hurriedly forced down, doing what he could to sweep the images popping into his head under the rug.   
They all began walking toward the large gates of Val Royeaux and not for the first time, Tristen looked at them with wonder. Such intricate designs he had never seen in the Circle, and he remained in awe of them. Someone chuckled near him and he forced himself to close his mouth, clearing his throat at being caught in the compromising position.  
“You could’ve caught flies like that,” Vanarel chuckled before winking mischievously. “Or something better.”  
The man’s flirting did little to help Tristen relax so he was grateful when an elven woman walked up to them on their way out, her robes indicating she had been a part of the Circle before they’d rebelled. He had thought it funny whenever he saw a mage in those robes now, a clear indicator of what they were.  
“If I might have a moment of your time,” she said, her soft voice commanding a presence beyond what her tiny body would’ve given her. “If it is help with the Breach you seek, perhaps my people are the wiser option.”  
My people.  
He always hated that phrase, hated how it made him a small part of a whole instead of an individual.   
“Grand Enchanter Fiona?” Cassandra asked and Tristen dimly thought that name sounded familiar.   
“Leader of the mage rebellion,” Solas said.  
Tristen sighed, choosing to tone the conversation out as best he could. Of course he wanted the mages help, if it were up to him, no Templar would be within a million miles of him again. But it wasn’t up to him alone.  
A soft hand touched his arm and he looked down, noticing Rin looking up at him with a kind smile.  
“You ok?” she asked, her brow furrowed with concern.  
“I’m fine,” he said, looking away nearly as quickly as he’d glanced down. She sighed heavily.  
“Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”  
“No.”  
Her cool hand fell from his skin and he almost wished for it back, almost called out to her as she walked away from him. In all honesty, being a mage was a lonely life. You didn’t get the option of having relationships, you studied and did whatever you were told. Officially speaking, mages weren’t allowed to dally away with one another, but of course, everyone in the Circle broke that rule. Even the Templars indulged on occasion.  
Tristen shuddered.  
The sound of rapidly approaching hoofbeats alerted him of the end of the conversation. Cassandra had called her beast to her and it came without the need of a second call, it’s brothers following it.  
Everybody climbed on their own horse, except for Rin, who amusingly shared with Varric. Vanarel loudly shouted, telling his ride to hurry forward and it began to rush off, his head soon a white blot in the distance.  
Tristen sighed and heaved himself atop his steed, feeling the way it’s strong muscles moved as it adjusted to the extra weight. Before the Inquisition he’d only ever seen horses in books, and such drawings never truly did the beasts justice. He stroked its mane gently, feeling it chuff and move against his hand.  
“Time to go,” Cassandra said. “Better we leave now than find out he fell off a mountain.”  
“That’d be too much to hope for,” Asad grumbled behind him.  
Tristen couldn’t say he disagreed at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there you guys! So wow, chapter 6! I'm having a really good time writing this but omg the stress I'm giving myself XD Anyway, I really hope you liked this! Please let me know what you thought!
> 
> Check out my tumblr, where I post a bunch of random art: https://carpaltunnelandchocolate.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody! So this chapter is in third-person but from chapter 2 onward they will all be first-person from each of their POVs!  
> I'm always looking to improve, I'd love to know what you think!  
> Thank you for reading ❤


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